That Metro Story (Part Two: "Benny")

 He was smiling awkwardly. His light blue shirt was now clinging to his slightly overweight torso but his black slender trousers looked comfortably snug. He had a black bag that seemed heavy but looked light with the way he had it casually over his left shoulder.

“Thanks!” she said to the man slightly taller than her. 

He made a ‘swipe-left’ with his hand, “You don’t have to.” 

“I don’t have to what?” she looked at him. 

He looked away, “Pretend to have to talk to me just because of what happened back there.” 

Confused, she blinked for a second, “I just wanted to know what made you do something; compared to the rest of the people on this train.” 

He looked over at her and looked away again smiling, “My father says we should treat everyone like someone’s son or daughter.” 

“Huh.” She raised her eyebrows, “So you’re saying that treating someone’s son involves stomping them on their feet?” 

“Oh yes! Especially if you can’t manage a punch and get away with it.” His face showed no remorse. Chuckling to the ground, she looked up at him again and saw that he was smiling at her. ‘This station is Lok Kalyan Marg. Doors will open on the left. Please mind the gap.’ 

“Where are you getting down?” the announcement made her ask him. 

“Kashmere Gate.” 

“Oh, so you still have some time – maybe you’ll get a seat at Rajiv Chowk!” 

“Ha ha,” he said deliberately, “nice one.” Almost all daily metro commuters know all too well that Rajiv Chowk was one of the many stations where you’d never get a seat unless you’re among the early birds. She’d just wanted to know if he was one. The way he responded confirmed her doubt.  

She grinned and shrugged, “Just trying to be nice to some guy who got me out of a possible mess, whose name I don’t even know.” His brows snapped together and his arm shot up to an overhead handle as the train swerved. He looked at her and said nothing. “What?” she asked. 

“That was a smooth line.”

Her mouth fell open, “Oh, no I didn’t,” she managed between breaths, “mean it like that. I just…”

“What’s wrong with Benny?” he was serious. 

“That was a hypothetical one na?” she was becoming flustered all of a sudden. “Why are you making this so difficult?” 

“Do good deeds really require names?” he sounded hesitant for some reason. She frowned. 

“Okay,” she began trying not to sound like an exasperated teenage girl but wanting to get her point across, “either you have a girlfriend who has forbidden you to talk to girls on the metro or you’re…” she hesitated.

“I’m what?” his stare was intense now.

“You know what?” she took a step towards him mock-menacingly, “I’m beginning to think that this entire scene is an orchestrated plot and that you’re somehow linked to those boys and one of these days, I’m going to end up getting mugged by all of you.” His eyes grew wide with each word she spoke. 

He gulped, “What are you; a writer or something?” 

“What?” she felt caught off-guard by the silly question. 

“That is one hell of a story.” 

“So, it’s just a story and not what’s happening now?” she pressed on. 

He smiled, “No, I don’t have a girlfriend, and yes it’s a story but no, I mean you no harm!” He raised his palms to his shoulders facing her and took half a step back. Her expression of doubt didn’t give way and he said, “I wanted to say that there’s nothing wrong with ‘Benny’ because my actual name is Benjamin, and although people call me Ben, Benny isn’t so far off.” She didn’t take her eyes off his face, searching for a clue – anything that said he wasn’t being honest. “Are you okay?” he asked suddenly. 

“What?” she was taken aback.  

“The color’s gone from your face,” he seemed concerned. 

“Tell me you’re joking,” she said, still trying to process the information that was thrown at her. 

“Arre, no seriously, your face…” 

“About your name,” she interrupted. Silently, he pulled out his ID card from his left pocket and handed it to her. She felt a shiver down her spine – sure enough, his name was Benjamin and he was a student of a famous UPSC training academy at Saket, a nearby town. She couldn’t stop herself from looking at him again. 

“What?” his eyes were pitch black. 

“You do realize that this is crazy na?” she asked him. 

“I’ve seen crazier,” he shook his head. Nodding slowly, she handed the card back to him. 

“Now, show me yours.” 

“Excuse me?” she was baffled. 

“I’ve just shown you my worse ever photo, so it’s only fair that I get to see something of yours too!” he said, matter-of-factly. 

She scoffed, “Worse than your Adhaar?” 

He pulled back his extended hand and said, “Fair point; request withdrawn.” 

‘This station is Central Secretariat. Doors will open on the right. Please mind the gap.’ She sighed and looked at him. He was swiping away on his phone. She didn’t know what to say to him. In the last ten minutes, they’d shared basic details about themselves and now, she wanted to know more, but she knew it was probably best if she didn’t ask a stranger on a metro ride, truths about himself. 

‘Snap!’ His fingers were right in front of her eyes, and she looked up quizzically. “You look like you want to run out of here,” he said. 

“No, it’s just,” she paused before continuing, “I just wanted to say thank you again.” He opened his mouth but she held up her hand and he nodded, so she went on. “Please don’t stop doing things like this for others, okay?” He smiled and nodded again. “Even if it means having to talk to them or throwing an occasional punch!” His laugh was a quiet one. 

‘This station is Rajiv Chowk. Doors will open on the left. Please mind the gap.’ She tucked her hair behind her ear and turned to him, wanting to say something before getting off. She found him staring at her. “What?” she asked. 

He took a step towards her, “I was wondering if I should risk my good-boy image and follow you out this door.” Her mouth pulled on a slow smile and he raised his eyebrows, “Is that a yes?” 

She took a step closer to the door, away from him and said, “A most definite no.” He smiled, finally revealing all his pearly whites. 

“Somehow I just knew you weren’t the damsel-in-distress type either,” he winked. She rolled her eyes and faced the door. 

The train had stopped. She wanted to step onto the platform gingerly, but was swept to the far side by the outgoing crowd. She found her footing and whirled around to wave a final ‘bye’ to Benny. To her surprise, he was nowhere to be seen. Her eyes searched for the blue shirt in the coach she’d just come out of – but in vain. The Rajiv Chowk Metro Station was famous – not just because it was under The Connaught Place, but because of the way the crowd never seemed to thin out. ‘He must’ve gone into another coach’, she told herself and stepped onto the escalator. 

Tongue in cheek all the way to platform number two, she kept replaying the interaction in her head, still amazed at what had just happened to her. That one metro ride opened up her heart to the possibility that some strangers could be angels on earth – and they didn’t really need to have a halo or a ring above their heads or big, glorious wings - they just need a touch of humanity. 

He looked back at the girl with the green cardigan and blue jeans. She was a sight for sore eyes, with her wavy black hair in a low ponytail and loose low-cut bangs that managed to hide her brown eyes and cradle her fine jaw. ‘Pretty,’ – his first thought before the boys had come into the picture. But then, something about the way she ran her eyes up and down the platform right after she’d left the train had made him uneasy. It was almost like she was searching for him and when his phone rang five seconds later, he’d just managed to get into the adjacent coach.

“What’s next? Throwing me off the train?” the voice at the other end was clearly pissed.

“Drop it,” Benny growled, “this one’s too smart.”

The End?